


Take Me Out

by O4amuse



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005), Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Big Brothers, Brainwashing, Hallucinations, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, POV Simon, Pilot Castiel, Psychic Abilities, Spaceship Impala
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8177854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/O4amuse/pseuds/O4amuse
Summary: Simon Tam spent his entire fortune developing the contacts to infiltrate the Alliance facility where his sister was being held. But those contacts weren't just in it for the money. They had their own reason to risk everything by breaking into the most secure building in the core planets.A reason named Sam Winchester.The love of two big brothers is the most dangerous force in the Verse, and nothing is going to stop them taking back what is theirs.





	1. Dean

Dean was lying on his back under the main turbo-compressor, ratchet in his hand and grease everywhere, when Cas buzzed the intercom.

  “There’s a wave from Charlie for you.”

  He started to sit up quickly and banged his head hard against the casing. “ _Ching-wah tsao duh liou mahng_!”

  “Dean?” Cas said cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

  “Fine,” he snapped, sliding out from under the engine and wiping the trickle of blood from his eyebrow. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He climbed to his feet, put the ratchet back on the tool rack and patted the casing apologetically. “Sorry, Baby. Not your fault.”

Then he climbed the short ladder to the main gangway and strode up to the cockpit. Cas was sitting in the main pilot seat, long fingers splayed out over the controls with his usual frown of concentration. He flew by instinct more than technique, Dean knew, and it was only because he had that rare feeling for the air that Dean let him drive his beloved Impala-class ship. It had taken a good year before Dean allowed him to be in the cockpit alone. He was a better pilot, and Dean knew it although he’d never say it out loud, but it wasn’t just anyone that could be trusted with Baby.

Dean dropped into the co-pilot’s seat and leaned over the small vid-screen. The red-headed girl on the other side waved cheerfully at him.

  “Hey, Dean! What happened to your head?”

  He wiped at the trickle of blood again. “Nothing. Whatcha got, Charlie?”

  “You want the good news, the bad news, or the… the weird coincidence news?”

  “In that order.”

  “Okay. Well, the good news - and it’s super good so I hope you’re sitting down - is that I’ve found him.”

  Dean straightened up, exchanging a sharp look with Cas. “Where?”

  “His room is six floors down, south-west corner. When they’re giving him treatments, they take him to the lab on the sub-basement level. He has an hour’s treatment twice a day, immediately followed by a half-hour of training in the adjacent gym.”

  “So we know where he’s gonna be at any given time of day?” Dean swallowed down the sick rush of hope and adrenalin. “Superb work, kiddo. So what’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is that the security systems are on a self-contained server. Which means I can’t access it remotely.”

  “No,” Dean said firmly. “You’re not coming in. This is a risk Cas and me are prepared to take but I ain’t putting you in the firing line.”

  “Hey, screw you, Winchester,” she retorted. “I can make my own decisions. Sam’s my friend too. Besides, you can’t do it without me so there’s no point arguing about it. I’m coming, or this doesn’t happen.”

  “She’s right, Dean,” Cas said gently.

  “Don’t you start,” he snapped. “Charlie…”

  “Hacker makes the rules,” she said cheerfully. “Shotgun shuts his cakehole. When you learn how to slice your way into a simple PSA system we can talk again. Until then, button it.”

  Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t do this without her and not doing it at all was out of the question. “Okay,” he said tiredly. “But you do exactly what I tell you, capisce?”

  She flipped him a jaunty little salute. “Sure thing, boss.”

  “So what do we need?”

  “Coupla uniforms and some clearance papers. The high-end forgeries, not the crap Garth makes.”

  “Frank Deveraux,” Dean said, wincing. “He’s the best there is but he ain’t cheap.”

  “And I need the latest Opteron dual quad-core processor with an InfiniBand bridging hub.”

  “Where the fuck’m I gonna get those kinda creds from?” Dean demanded.

  “Yeah, well…” Charlie gave him a nervous smile. “You know when I mentioned the weird coincidence news? I know a guy who knows a guy who was recently contacted by a guy who’s also looking to get into the facility. Apparently his sister’s stuck in there too. He’s got money and is willing to pay top dollar to break her out. I figured you could maybe work together.”

  “This ain’t a job, Charlie. I’m not risking Sam’s rescue by adding another complication into the mix.”

  “I get it,” she said quickly. “I do. But the facility’s systems are top of the line and if I go in with my current rig the chances of them catching us go way up. The Opteron buys us, like, three times the chance of success.”

  Cas raised a hand. “Why don’t you meet this man, at least?” he suggested. “Then you can assess whether he represents a risk or an asset.”

Dean growled reluctantly but he knew he didn’t have many options. Breaking into the highest security facility in the core planets took resources and being a rim scavenger just didn’t pay that well. If necessary he’d take this guy for everything he could get and then dump his ass. No way was he risking Sam’s freedom for the sake of somebody else. No way.


	2. Simon

Simon tugged nervously at the hem of his jacket and tried to look inconspicuous. But this kind of dive wasn’t his usual arena and he knew he stood out amongst the ragged-edged people that made up the rest of the bar’s patrons. He’d chosen a corner right at the back, poorly lit and out of the way, in the hopes that his presence there wouldn’t draw attention. After half an hour of waiting for his contact, however, he’d moved from being nervous about the meeting to being nervous about getting out alive. He’d already accepted that his wallet would be a fatality of tonight’s desperate bid for help.

The call had come late at night, when he’d already gone to bed. He’d scrabbled blearily for his comm and only noticed the withheld caller ID after he’d clicked to answer.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi!” The woman on the other end was offensively cheerful, given the late hour. “Are you still looking for an infiltration team?”

  His pulse immediately quickened and he sat up in bed. “Who is this?”

  “You can call me Charlie. And you’re River Tam’s brother. There’s someone who can help you, maybe. He’s willing to meet you to talk about it. Be at the Roadhouse in one hour. He’ll find you there.”

  Simon threw back the sheets, scrambling for his clothes. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “Oh, it doesn’t work like that,” she said. “This meeting is to decide if he trusts you.”

  “What if someone’s listening to this call? Then we’ll all be in trouble.”

  She laughed. “One hour, Dr. Tam.”

The line went dead and Simon lowered his comm, breathing fast. This was it. This was the chance he’d been waiting for, the call he’d risked everything to get. All he needed to do was convince this stranger that he was good for the money and worth the risk.

But he couldn’t do that if the man never showed. It was now nearly ninety minutes since he’d answered, and he was still alone at his corner table. He desperately needed more sleep - he had a morning shift at the hospital - but it wasn’t easy to walk away from the hope of finding someone to help him save River. He rubbed both hands briskly over his face and took a deep breath. There would be another call. He just had to keep trying.

He began to stand up and was startled motionless as a tall man in a beige coat, with blue eyes and ruffled black hair, suddenly sat down opposite him.

  “Hello,” the stranger said in a deep, calm voice. “Please remain seated.”

  Simon dropped back into his chair. “Are you…”

  “No.” The stranger quirked his head a little to one side. “He is watching whilst I talk to you. If I do not believe you are to be trusted, he will not approach.”

  “That’s a little paranoid,” Simon muttered, looking nervously around the crowd to see if he could spot anyone spying on him.

  “Given the nature of the proposed enterprise, I believe paranoia is a reasonable precaution,” the stranger said. “I understand you are looking for your sister. How did they acquire her?”

  Simon swallowed, the guilt rising up to clench at his throat. “We thought it was a school for gifted children. She applied to go there.”

  “I see. And you discovered the error.”

  “She wrote to me. In code. My parents don’t believe it but... We’ve always been close. I know how she thinks.”

  “The sibling bond.” The stranger nodded.

  Simon blinked. He’d tried so hard to make his parents understand and completely failed to convey the legitimacy of his instinct. How could this man possibly accept it as fact, immediately and without question?

  The stranger gave a small smile. “I have lived the last few years in close proximity to such a bond. One would have to be utterly oblivious to miss its power. Now, the question of money.”

   “Anything,” Simon said immediately. “Everything I have. It’s yours, if you help me get her out.”

  “That will not be necessary.” He flinched a little, half-raising one hand to his ear. “Ah. My captain tells me there will be a fee, in addition to the costs for certain necessary pieces of equipment.”

  “Of course. Half before, half after.”

  “Half before, plus all the equipment. And you will make arrangements for the other half to be paid in the event of your unfortunate demise during the mission.”

  “Done.” Simon swallowed. “Provided my sister is rescued. If she doesn’t make it out, no deal.”

  The stranger nodded. “That seems fair. Dean?”

  “What?”

Simon frowned, confused, and then looked up as another man eeled out of the crowd and stood next to the stranger. The newcomer was tall, taller than Simon, with dirty blond hair and green eyes that were narrowed suspiciously at him. A fresh cut was scabbed over on his right eyebrow and there were traces of engine grease on his left cheekbone. His arms were folded over a broad chest, making his leather jacket stretch over the deltoids and biceps. He was as rough-edged as the rest of the crowd, with an aura of barely restrained violence. And he was beautiful.

Simon thrust that last thought aside. This wasn’t the time. Or the place. Or the person. He stood up and held out a hand.

  “Dr. Tam.”

  The man took it, squeezing hard to assert dominance. “Captain Winchester. I wanna get a few things clear before we agree to do business. Cas here reckons you’re on the level, and I trust his judgement. But he ain’t the one who’ll be down on the ground with you. So. You ever handled a weapon before?”

  Simon shook his head.

  “How ‘bout running a con? Faking your identity? No? Have you ever even told a _go tsao de_ lie?”

  Simon’s lips narrowed. “Up until now, I've never needed to. But don’t for one second think I'm incapable of doing all those things when necessary.”

  Winchester looked unimpressed. “Is there anything you can do?”

  “I’m a senior doctor in one of the largest hospitals in this system. I know how bureaucracies work. I can speak their language, I know how to act to get what I want, and how to pull rank.”

  The blue-eyed stranger nudged his captain. “That will be useful, as you are quite bad at it.”

  “Shut up, Cas,” Winchester muttered. “Okay, Doc, here’s the deal. You and your fancy ways are gonna get us in the door. Me and Charlie, we’ll be your retinue. She’ll set up a surprise inspection, so they have enough time to expect us but not enough time to triple-check your ID. Once we’re in, she’ll get into their systems and make sure the targets are where we think they are. Hopefully, if our intel is right, they’ll be right next to each other. You and me’ll grab ‘em whilst she clears the way out. Cas’ll have Baby waiting for an emergency evac via the main lift shaft. He reels us up and we’re away. From the moment you set foot on my ship to the moment you and your sis leave it, you’ll do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Got it?”

  Simon narrowed his eyes. “You said targets. So you’re not just here to help River.”

  Winchester looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. A split-second of something like rage flashed across his high-planed face. “They grabbed my brother a coupla months ago. Just appeared outta nowhere whilst we were on a job near Lawrence and took him. I’m getting him back. You’re coming along for the ride.”

  Simon looked at him thoughtfully. “I understand,” he said at last. “And I agree to your terms. But if things go wrong, I have no doubt you'll cheerfully leave me behind in order to save your brother. I will do likewise. So let's agree on one more thing. It doesn’t matter if one, or neither, of us get out, so long as both our siblings make it. Deal?”

  Winchester gave him a hard stare for five long seconds. Then a slow, warm smile spread across his face. “You know what, Doc? You and me are gonna get along just fine.”


	3. Sam

Sam was back on Baby. Somehow. Maybe the black light and blood and pain, the needles and the electricity, being strapped down to the chair or made to fight… maybe that was the dream. Baby was normality. Baby was real.

Dean was there. Of course he was. Dean was always there, one step in front of Sam, keeping him safe. But right now Dean was angry, pacing the cockpit with bunched shoulders, snapping at Cas. Sam recognised the signs, the temper on the edge of exploding into violence. This was when his brother needed him, to be an anchor. He stretched out a hand.

   “Dean?”

There was a flash of white light that drowned everything out in a scream. 

 

* * *

Sam climbed down into Dean’s cabin. His brother was sitting on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around his head, looking blankly ahead with an expression of despair. A tear rolled silently down his cheek and Sam swallowed. Dean never cried.

   “I’m sorry, Sammy,” he choked.

   Sam stretched out a hand. “It’s okay, Dean.”

A flash of white light washed out the cabin as Sam screamed.

  

* * *

Sam blinked to clear his vision. He was standing in the middle of a large empty room, dressed in grey leggings and a loose grey tunic. An older man in a suit, with strange yellow eyes and a toothy grin, cocked his head slightly to one side.

   “Heya, Sam. We’re going to try something a little different today. Your hand-to-hand training is going great, thanks to your existing knowledge. So let’s kick it up a notch. Today we’re going to ensure you can kill anyone we want you to.”

Movement in the shadows. Sam automatically dropped into a high-alert crouch, pulse ratcheting up as adrenaline flooded his system. His senses expanded, raking the room for threats and advantages. One person, well built, moving like a fighter. Then they stepped into a dim spotlight and Sam’s heart stuttered.

   “Dean?”

They’d caught him too. He’d come after Sam and got himself caught. Maybe together they’d be enough to bust out of here…

With a snarl, Dean launched himself forward and tackled Sam around the waist. They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs, the breath punched out of Sam. Dean straddled his chest and locked his hands around Sam’s neck, choking him. Lights began to flash in Sam’s peripheral vision. He writhed, trying to dislodge his brother, and the strangling hold tightened. In desperation he thrust his hips up abruptly, throwing off Dean’s balance. They rolled, clawing and punching. Sam got a knee up on his chest, pinning him, and punched him a couple of times in the face. Clearly the bastards here had got into his brain. Sam just needed a minute to get through to him…

Dean’s head lolled sideways on the concrete floor, eyes half-open. Sam pulled back abruptly, staring at the blood on his fist and his brother’s swollen face. He became aware that he was shaking. He reached cold, distant fingers down to touch Dean’s cheek. “Dean? Please, Dean, please wake up…”

   Behind him, the yellow-eyed man began a slow clap. “Not bad, Sammy. Messy, formless, but you did kill him.”

   “Dean…”

   “Now,” the yellow-eyed man smiled, “do it again.” 

Movement in the shadows, and Dean stepped out into the spotlight with a snarl. 

 

* * *

Sam stepped out onto the cargo bay gantry and looked down in puzzlement. Dean was standing below him, laughing. Hands on his hips, head thrown back, the long line of his throat exposed as he gave his whole body over to amusement. A slim dark-haired man in a waistcoat - who even wears a waistcoat?! - was sprawled on the deck at his feet.

   “Seriously, Doc, anyone’d think you ain’t ever used an Emp-stick before,” Dean said, reaching down a hand to pull the man upright.

   “I’ve never had occasion,” the man said grumpily.

   Dean grinned and slung a casual arm around his shoulders. “Don’t you worry. I’ll make a fighter of you yet.”

Sam frowned. Something wasn’t right about this picture. Baby only had living room for three – Cas, Dean and himself. This stranger with the shiny waistcoat was trespassing. Replacing somebody.

Dean didn’t look at him, too busy demonstrating something with the Emp-stick to the stranger. Sam reached out a long hand.

   “Dean?”

White light and screaming. 

 

* * *

Sam woke in the chair, staring at a bright surgical spotlight. A large needle on a pneumatic arm was advancing towards the metal crown strapped to his head. Half a dozen people in medical scrubs moved briskly around the room, dim figures beyond the glare of the light. The needle kept coming.

Sam wrenched hard at his arms and legs. There were tight plastic straps securing his limbs to the chair. He tried again, bringing all his frightened, furious strength to bear and felt a deep shudder run through the frame. Someone in the shadows swore.

   “Who sedated this subject? Did you adjust the dose for greater mass?”

The needle kept coming, so close now. Sam could see liquid gleaming at its tip. He yanked harder, leaving deep red lesions in his skin. A slight figure scurried around out of his eyeline, carrying a large syringe.

The needle slid into a hole in the crown with a click of contact. There was a moment of concentrated pressure against his forehead. Then agony exploded across his senses and he screamed, every nerve convulsing. He couldn’t see, hear, think, only feel the fire and acid and hate stabbing into his centre, ripping through him, obliterating thought and memory, until there was only pain. 

When the sedative kicked in, he welcomed it with tears of gratitude.

 

* * *

He ducked his head and leaned down to peer into the engine room. The call to his brother died unspoken as he saw Dean pressing the waistcoated stranger up against the workbench with a hungry smile. One hand gripped the stranger’s hip and the other cupped his pale cheek, brushing dark hair back. The stranger was wide-eyed, on the edge of flight.

   “It’s okay, Doc,” Dean said huskily. “It’s just a kiss. Blowing off steam, is all.”

   “Yes,” said the stranger, slightly breathless. He slid a hand up Dean’s chest to tug at the neckline of his shirt. “There are multiple accounts of soldiers managing stress in a similar way.”

   “That’s what we are,” Dean said, nosing his way along the jawline to press a light kiss under the stranger’s ear. “Just two soldiers, easing tension.”

Sam sighed. They’d talked about this. No random hook-ups in the engine room or the cockpit, those were the rules. If he interrupted he’d have to cope with a seriously grumpy brother, but the alternative was risking this slick-looking dude doing some major damage to Baby. Sam pushed his hair back and took a breath.

   “Dean…” 

White light; screaming.

 

* * *

Sam was back in the gym. His head, wrists and ankles hurt, but remotely, unimportantly. The world seemed somehow distant, as if there was a step between him and it. He was an oasis of calm, poised effortlessly on the edge of movement. Sprawled around the edges of the room were half a dozen Deans, all dead. The yellow-eyed man stepped forward from the wall with a wolf-like smile.

   “Very good, Sam,” he purred. “Now…”

The door slammed open, flooding the room with light from the corridor beyond. Silhouetted in the frame was another Dean, this one dressed in a soldier’s uniform. He flipped an Emp-stick out from under his arm and slammed it into the floor. Sam dropped swiftly to one knee, avoiding the stun blast. The yellow-eyed man collapsed and Dean took a couple of steps into the room with a fierce expression.

   “Sammy.”

Sam came up out of the crouch in a charge.

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider leaving kudos! It makes writers happy. :-)


End file.
